


The Lights

by ladybugwarrior



Series: dick grayson angst party [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:52:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybugwarrior/pseuds/ladybugwarrior
Summary: Dick asks his parents to tell him one last story before he has to leave them.





	The Lights

**Author's Note:**

> To avoid spoilers I'm putting warnings at the end notes.

“Can you tell me a story?”

Mary Grayson looks down to her son as she strokes his hair where they lay on the only bed that was in their comfortably small trailer as rain pounded the metal roof. Her husband, John, lies on the other side of Dick, his arm around her shoulders in their normal position. The bed’s size would have been an issue when Dick got bigger.

“We don’t have much time before you need to get up.” She reminds him gently and looks out the window. The large tent and string lights marking the path ways are unlit, leaving the family in the flickering light of a single candle.

“I know,” he whispers with the fuzzy edges of sleep clinging to his voice. “Can you though? Please.”

“What story do you want to hear, Dickie?” John asks, wrapping his hand around his son’s smaller fist.

“The Widowed Watchmaker,” Dick says.

“Are you sure you don’t want to pick something happier?”

“I think it’s happy,” Dick reasons and tears begin to build up in his eyes. “Please, I need to hear it right now. The lights are going to be back on soon.”

Mary shushes him. “Don’t cry, my Little Robin. I’ll tell you whatever story you want to hear, but you have to leave after I’m done.”

Dick nods. John tenses and tightens the tenuous hold on he has on his family as though they are about to turn into sand and drip though his fingers.

“There were once two Watchmakers,” Mary begins the story, never taking her eyes off her son. “He had a wife, whom he loved, and they lived happily for many years. One day, his wife got very ill. The Watchmaker made and sold hundreds of watches to get her the finest care from around the world, but there was nothing anyone could do to help her. She continued to grow frail and there was no way the Watchmaker could do to save his oldest friend, and most treasured love. He told her one day that he did not want to live in a world where she did not exist. This upset her greatly, to see the man she loved as the moon loved the stars so ready to sacrifice everything he had created so young.

“She used the last of her strength to make a special watch. ‘Carry this with you when I am gone, and only when the time reads twelve o’clock you may come to me.’ He accepted, and she died not long after. He grieved her loss as he had lost a vital part of himself and could see nothing but her absence. All the lone Watchmaker wanted to do was join his wife, but he had promised to do no such thing until the clock struck twelve.

“What he did not know was that his wife had purchased enchanted gold for the gears. The timepiece would not strike twelve until the natural end of his life. The Watchmaker lived on. He made thousands of watches and became known as the greatest Watchmaker in the world. The wealthiest people around the world came to him for his beautiful timepieces, and he made far more money than he knew what to do with.

“So, he did what far too few men with excess do with their riches. He gave as much as he could to those that needed the funds more than the humble man would ever--- all in his wife’s name, as everything he did until the watch struck twelve was to honor her. His wave of his philanthropy lasted for twenty years, until he was as frail in old age as his wife was in illness. On his sickbed, the Watchmaker was greeted by one of the many people his generosity had saved.

“The young man asked the Watchmaker why he gave away so much and kept so little for himself. All the Watchmaker could do was smile, and with a voice as old as time he said, ‘I have only ever lived by following the footsteps of those I have loved.’ The watch struck twelve, and the Watchmaker passed. His wife was there, waiting for him, jubilant that he had not arrived a minute early.” Mary finishes the story; a tear slips from her eye that John wipes away.

The family lays in the single bed, silent in their soft embrace. The only noise from the rain outside. Their attention turns outside as the lights outside the trailer shine, and Dick turns his head away from them as they dim.

“You have to go, Dickie.” John voice is thick, and his eyes are red with their own tears.

“I don’t want to.” Dick cries.

Mary leans down to kiss her son’s forehead, lingering as her own tears flow down her skin. Her knuckles turn white as she clings to her son. She breathes him in.

“I know you don’t, but he’ll take good care of you.” John reassures his son who looks at him with watery eyes.

“Will you both watch me?”

“Of course, we will,” Mary answers with no hesitation. “We’ve been watching you this entire time.”

“Are you,” Dick’s words catch in his throat. “Are you proud of me?”

“We’ve always been proud of our Robin.” Mary says.

Dick looks up at their smiling faces that barely mask the grief underneath. He sits up, and gets off the bed. “Walk with me?”

John and Mary both stand from the bed and grab either of his hands. Together, they leave the small trailer and follow the path way to the tent in the rain. The edison bulbs that are strung to together and line the walk way light in tandem with their steps, each step sparking a new bulb to flicker to life. Soon, they stand at the entrance of the tent, the smell of peanuts and copper still linger in the air.

Dick looks to his parents one last time, and he goes forward to enter. Before he can make more than three steps his mother grabs him, spins him around and holds him with all she has. The young Dick, only thirteen years old, relishes in the hug that his father joins in.

“You were the best parents I could ever ask for.” Dick whispers to them.

“You are the best son,” John says, “and you will only get better.”

Dick holds on for a few more seconds, but he must leave. He pulls away and turns to the entrance. A deep breath, and he enters.

* * *

 

Dick wakes up gasping, chocking out water from his lungs. Arms embrace him, Bruce wrapped in the kevlar Batsuit.

“Thank god,” Bruce gasps. “Dick, talk to me. Are you okay?”

He wasn’t, but, for the first time since his parents had died nearly four years ago, Dick knew he would be.

**Author's Note:**

> It is vaguely mentioned that Dick drowned and died momentarily at the end of the story after the page break.


End file.
